


Sexy Slashers: Freddy Krueger

by Djinn_n_Tonic



Series: Spooky, Sexy, Halloween 2019! [3]
Category: A Nightmare on Elm Street (Movies 1984-1994), Bishoujo
Genre: Amazon, Death, F/F, F/M, Femdom, Freddy Krueger - Freeform, Genderbending, Halloween, Horror, Rule 63, Slasher, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 13:02:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21208979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djinn_n_Tonic/pseuds/Djinn_n_Tonic
Summary: Frederica "Freddy" Krueger terrorizes the teenagers of Elm Street, turning their wet dreams into nightmares.





	Sexy Slashers: Freddy Krueger

**Author's Note:**

> Finally got chapter 3 done. Well, half of it. I don't want to paint perceptions before people read it, but I'm not going to lie - I don't think it's my best work. Some parts are rushed, I think that'll be clear. However, at least wanted to get the first half out before Halloween. Hopefully the second half will be out before the 31st, too, but don't hold me to that. I would also love to follow through on the original plan to do a chapter based on the Bishoujo version of Pinhead from Hellraiser, but who knows. If I do, it'll be shorter than the rest. Partially because the movie was already deeply sexual, so it's hard to make a smut version of it without just doing the movie again. Also, it's hard to make a woman sexy when she has her nipples ripped off and the wounds exposed. Not impossible, just very hard.
> 
> In any case, I do hope you find some enjoyment in this Elm Street chapter. The movies are some of my favorite in the slasher genre, so hopefully I did some some kind of justice.

_One. Two. Freddy’s cumming with you._

_Three. Four. But she’ll ask for more._

_Five. Six. She wants your cunts and dicks._

_Seven. Eight. You will be her mate._

_Nine. Ten. Never sleep again._

\--X--

“Fuck!” Tina cried, her voice barely making it over the sound of her boyfriend’s hips and hand hitting her ass. She had more to say, but Rod’s hand on the back of her head forced her face into the pillow, muffling any comments or criticisms.

Prior to the roughness, Rod and Tina’s sex had begun something more akin to lovemaking, rather than the rough fucking she was experiencing now. Her voice was not pained, but more gasping and welcoming. It became louder and more overwhelmed, heard with every “Oh, God!” she panted. Despite her locked bedroom door, her best friend Nancy, sleeping in the other room, and Nancy’s boyfriend Glen sleeping on the couch downstairs, heard everything. Able to hear everything was what made Glen’s frustrations even more intense. Meanwhile, Nancy just blushed.

“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” Rod agreed with each thrust, taking his cock out and slamming it back in without regard for Tina’s body language or actual language. He lamented her lack of curves, which were more toned but in short supply than her friend Nancy, who did her best to cover up her breasts and ass with bulky sweaters and baggy pants. On more than one occasion, he fantasized about Tina’s best friend while he was fucking Tina. Usually happened after an insistent but failed attempt at getting Tina to orchestrate a threesome with Nancy. If nothing else, Rod figured, Tina was a tight, and above all willing, hole. He cared for her too, he just never expressed it except through jealousy.

Tina felt his grip release on her head, only so he could keep both hands on her hips. She gritted her teeth at how hard he squeezed her taut flesh and toned muscle. A final push filled her up to the point of breaking, kissing her womb before he filled it. The full feeling was nice, she’d admit, but not enough to get her to where she needed to be.

Rod pulled out by virtue of falling off her, laying by her side. He caught his breath as he gave a smug, satisfied, smirk. The short-haired blonde pushed herself up from the soaked sheets and regarded Rod with a disappointed glare.

“Why do you have to be so rough, Rod?” she demanded to know, despite never getting a satisfying answer in the past and knew she was unlikely to get one now.

“Ah, whatever,” he dismissed, not bothering to even open his eyes to look at her. “You love it.”

“No, Rod,” she groaned, “I don’t.” Tina swung her legs over the bed and stood up. She turned back toward Rod to continue the argument. “In fact, I ha- and he’s asleep.” Fists planted against her slight hips as she looked at the already-snoring Rod. Even in his post coital state, which he enjoyed alone, she couldn’t deny how hot he was. Black hair stuck to his forehead. The moonlight bouncing off the sweat that glazed his muscular body. Tina loved that body. She loved having it lay on top of her as much as she enjoyed moving herself along it as they kissed. She even admired the power that came with his fitness. She just wished he wouldn’t abuse it and would instead wield it wisely.

Even his cock, impressive in its length and girth, she had grown tired of. It had become a weapon rather than a prize. It hurt her wrist to jerk off. It hurt her jaw to suck off. It hurt her pussy and ass to take. She longed for something more reasonably sized. Better yet, she wished he’d be gentler with it. More considerate and compassionate. She imagined Glen must be like that in the sack, not that she, or even Nancy, would know. If ever he got tired of chasing after a dream Nancy kept denying him, she might go after Glen herself.

Tina entered the bathroom and came back moments later, cleaned up and cleaned out. While Rod looked comfortable sleeping in the nude, spread out in his own sweat, Tina wasn’t. She put on some white panties and a blue button up. For a moment, she considered crawling into bed with Nancy, rather than endure the now cooled moisture that dampened the bed. She even considered finding Glen, whom she was sure wasn’t sleeping with Nancy like he wanted and resting her head on his chest. In her un-climaxed state, she didn’t want to risk coming onto Glen; or Nancy, for that matter.

The high school senior had invited her friend Nancy (Glen and Rod inviting themselves) over to keep her company, while her parents were out of town, as she had been having some unsettling nightmares. Everything was covered in shadows and chilling atmosphere. The sound of sharp metal dragging painfully across metal, overlaid a distant, but approaching, laughter was what really scared her. Nancy had been having similar nightmares, so she was happy to help. And while they wouldn’t admit it, Glen and Rod were in the same boat. As scared as she was to fall asleep, Rod had done a good job at tiring her out, and she was out within moments.

The bedroom widow slowly slid open with no tangible force behind it. Following behind the night air came a thick and heavy fog. Tendrils of white curled and crept along the bedroom floor until not an inch could be seen. As soft as the fog itself, a voice whispered from the shadows. Gently it grew louder and louder, until Tina was able to recognize her name and opened her eyes. Feeling none of the exhaustion she had when she went to sleep, Tina sat up in the bed and peered into the moonlit room.

From a thick blanket of shadow came the voice again, stirring Tina’s curiosity – but her fear remained. There was someone else in the room with her, someone uninvited. More alarming, she was alone, aside from her guest. Tina had looked over to stir Rod awake but found both he and the bed’s dampness was gone.

Looking to the shadows, Tina could just barely make out the other person. All she could surmise was that she was a woman and she was an intruder. She felt her calculating stare upon her body. Draped in the shirt and panties, Tina felt more naked than usual.

“Wh- Who are you?” she asked of the shadows, betraying any sort of confidence or strength she’d have to fend off an attack. “Where’s Rod?”

“I am Frederica. I’m the answer to your prayers,” answered a soothing, alluring voice. Almost alluring enough to force Tina out of her bed and into the unknown. Her intruder saved her the effort and stepped out into the moonlight herself.

She was a vision. A creature of moonlight and dreams. Statuesque and confident. The blonde woman was draped delicately in a thin robe of dark green; so dark it was barely perceptible from black. Only by virtue of the moonlight could Tina make out the shade. The light also filtered through the thinness of the robe. It created a silhouette of her form, promising hips wide enough to create a mouth-watering thigh gap. Tina wished she had an ounce of artistic talent so she could capture the sight. Paintings, poems, porn. It didn’t matter – she just wanted to keep her one way or another.

“And you don’t need Rod anymore,” the long-haired woman assured. “What you need…” She gave a temporary pause in order to disrobe. “…is a woman’s touch.” The fabric and hang were both so loose that it looked like it took her more effort to keep the robe on than take it off. It fell silently to the floor, disappearing into the mist. Before Tina stood a woman covered only in red lingerie and a red smile. Red. A color that would become a recurring presence in the moments to come.

Despite her reservations about the woman, Tina made no effort to run when Frederica began to crawl towards her on the bed. The only movements she did make were the tiny twitches and gasps that involuntarily occurred when Frederica placed a soft, lingering, kiss on her skin. She began at her toes and laid a trail up her legs. Tina waited impatiently as Frederica neared her white panties. Yet she did not linger there. Instead she kissed from her inner thighs and up along the edges of the fabric, but never pulled it down to see what was inside. The path continued along her stomach, her muscles tensing in anticipation of every caress and kiss. One by one the buttons of her shirt were undone to make room for the blonde. Tina shivered at the sensation of Frederica’s breasts, weighty as they were, dragging across her torso as she approached and fitted herself between her legs.

Frederica took great care with the last few buttons. With every parting of fabric, she’d twitch her eyes up toward Tina, gauging her reaction. Sensing no resistance, though some hesitations, the mysterious woman pushed aside the slight teenager’s shirt and exposed her humble breasts to the night air. Tina shivered at the exposure, her back arching involuntarily. Nipples pebbled as goosebumps rose along her skin. She couldn’t help comparing her small, teenaged, breasts to the woman’s large, firm, globes. Sensing this, Frederica sat up.

“You’re beautiful, Tina.” Her words were soothing and comforting, like a mother’s. Tina had never been called ‘beautiful.’ Pretty, cute, even hot and sexy – but never beautiful. Tina felt like this woman knew this and sought to rectify the situation. But her words didn’t ring hollow, like an undeserved compliment. It felt real, despite the situation feeling dreamlike. Hearing the words from a woman of such overwhelming beauty, grace, and, frankly, sexiness, made the words lift her up. As if she’d been invited to stand with Frederica.

Then her bra came off.

Tina expected her breasts to fall, to sag from her age and their weight, but they only jiggled before quickly resting into a perky, high, shape. She couldn’t help but feel inadequate, again, compared to her. Yet that feeling was overshadowed by her desire to just _be_ with Frederica, not _be_ her entirely. The heat from between Frederica’s legs, against Tina’s stomach, was felt and she felt honored.

Frederica rested on Tina for several beats, letting her soak in her form while the older woman took in Tina’s. She knew her body well already. She’d spied on her in her dreams for a while, but only recently felt it time to act on her desires. Desires that had grown and _festered_ over time and could no longer be contained. She could no longer be contained. So, without further admiration, Frederica lowered herself back down to lie on Tina, pressing her body against hers. Repositioning herself, she straddled Tina’s thigh while pressing her own against Tina’s damp panties.

The athletic blonde barely had time to gasp before the curvy blonde’s mouth was upon hers. They started slowly. Pressing and parting lips. Heads turning slightly to find the perfect angle. The wet sound of moistening lips upon lips pulling apart – only briefly. Frederica’s body moved against Tina’s. Her body shifted and slid, pressing her thigh against Tina’s crotch. Tina almost felt embarrassed by how her lover must be feeling the wetness of her against her thigh. Almost. In the moment, she cared only for the embrace and its continued existence.

She had never been with another woman before. She’d only realized she had an attraction to girls when Nancy started to develop. Though there was some envy as Tina watched her fill out over the years, throwing away bras that didn’t fit anymore, her focus was always on how her body made her feel. She desperately wanted to feel Nancy’s chest against her own; but if Glen couldn’t seal the deal, what chance did Tina have, she figured. Now she had an equal, if not greater, pair of tits spilling against her humble breasts.

She loved it.

Every second of it, she loved it. She’d never been with another woman before, so she relied on what she always wanted to do with one. She explored her curves. Roaming hands were trembling and unsure, but Frederica never winced or pulled away from Tina’s touch, so she persisted. Handling the heavy globes, feeling their impressive heft. Sliding down her curved back, only to rise back up over her thick ass. She dared not go more intimate than that, but Frederica would.

Silver-pained fingernails (though only on the right hand) pressed into Tina’s taut flesh. Just on the border of being painful. It was a welcomed hurt. One that demonstrated strength and confidence, but not malice. She slid a hand behind Tina’s back, pressing up to force her chest against her own. Frederica squeezed Tina’s firm thigh and lifted. Tina’s leg was held onto as the long-haired woman began to move in earnest.

Firm, controlled, determined rubbing of her body against Tina’s. Her thigh squeezed against Tina’s pussy. Frederica wanted so badly to taste her, to _eat_ her, but she held back. Patience. She hadn’t exercised it before, when she should have, and it cost her dearly. Now, however, she was in an even better position. She had all the time in the world, so there was no need to rush. Her precious Tina was in her arms again, and she’d never let her go.

_Never_.

Frederica missed the opening cry of Tina’s orgasm. She did, however, _feel_ it. Her mouth was firmly planted on hers, her tongue caressing and exploring the young woman’s mouth. Suddenly a moan was let out from her mouth into the older woman’s. Quickly, she ended the kiss so she could hear, and watch, Tina climax. If she was beautiful before, she was_ heavenly_ in that moment. Frederica was undeserving of anything ‘heavenly.’ But she always took what she wanted.

She let Tina rest for a moment, listening to her breath slow and feeling her body relax. Her kissing of her neck and gently petting of her cute breasts and butt prolonged this; but Frederica was in no rush. Eventually, she could wait no longer. Frederica wanted Tina, _forever_, and so she would ensure that.

“Want me to _finger_ you?” Frederica purred into Tina’s ear, punctuated with a sharp bite on the lobe.

“What?” Tina gasped.

Tina opened her eyes when she felt Frederica sit up. Her heavy eyes widened as her heart rate quickened. No longer was she a topless, beautiful, stranger in her bed. Her body was the same, but its language, and clothing, were not.

Now Frederica was dressed in cut-off jean shorts, barely more coverage than panties. A red and green striped sweater; its collar so wide it hung off her shoulders. A hole cut into the chest to display her cleavage and the hints of the black and pink bra that contained her breasts. Though Tina couldn’t see them, Frederica also wore a pair of asymmetrical stockings. A fishnet stocking pinching into her thick, soft, thigh. A solid black stocking coming up just past her knee. A pair of black stiletto boots. Capping off the outfit was a dirt brown fedora resting atop her curtain of golden locks.

Most alarming, however, was her glove. On her right hand she wore a tattered brown glove. Custom made. Metal backing linked to the metal casings around her fingers, leaving only her thumb without. At the end of each finger was a blade glinting in the moonlight. Curved and more than six inches, at least. Deadly. Frederica tapped one against the corner of her plump lips – hungrily.

Tina sensed ill intent in the woman. There wasn’t hate, not malice. But there was a joy. A sickening joy. The sense of danger came over Tina as she realized she wouldn’t be able to get away from Frederica in time if she acted on those feelings.

“Please, God,” she begged, both of the woman and the man upstairs.

“This!” Frederica snapped, smirking, “is God.”

Tina’s soft whimpers and movements had done nothing to rouse Rod from his sleep. Her blood curdling scream, however, did. Alarmingly. His eyes shot open with a panic and his heart pumped wildly. Tina was thrashing underneath the covers, elbowing him in the stomach. He was not deterred. Hastily he whipped the blue blanket off her. As he suspected, Tina was moving violently on the bed. She looked to be struggling, but against what he didn’t know. There was no one there but he and Tina.

Then her blouse ripped open and four parallel cuts appeared on her stomach.

Panicked, Rod scrambled off the bed. The cuts were so deep that she bled immediately and copiously. Before he could reach out to help her, she rose off the bed. Not sitting or standing up. She was lifted into the air by an unseen force. Her body squirmed and balled, trying to protect herself. Her body was forced open. Bare. Suddenly she was spun, knocking into Rod and sending him stumbling off his feet and into the corner.

Tina, too, was thrown. With a deep thud she hit the wall. The bizarre scene grew more bizarre as Rod watched Tina be dragged up the wall. Further cuts were made along the way, ensuring that the trail of blood she left was an even coating. Across the ceiling she was pulled, stopping in the middle. Rod could only scream out her name. The panic and impossibility of the situation kept him from forming a plan. All he could do was watch. Watch as she reached out a hand to him for help. Suddenly, she went limp.

Down onto the bed she fell, splashing into the pool of blood and freckling Rod with it. Nancy and Glen had been banging on the door for almost the entire ordeal, but couldn’t fight their way in. By the time Glen was able to break down the locked door, Rod had disappeared.

And Tina was dead.

\--X--

Everyone was left to wonder how the murder could have happened. Suspicions lied solely at the feet of Rod. His criminal record and public, violent, outbursts (not to mention presumably being with Tina when she died) made him an easy target for the police. The only two who held any sort of hope for his innocence were Nancy and Glen.

Both knew of Rod’s reckless tendencies. They knew of his penchant for getting into fights with strangers. However, they also both knew that Rod would have never harmed a head on Tina’s head. He could be gruff and rough, even inconsiderate at times. Nevertheless, he was never violent toward Tina. Both had expressed their love for one another; Tina more conventionally than Rod. Even so, Tina assured everyone that Rod loved her as much as she loved him.

Rod, too, was sure Nancy and Glen would know he was innocent. Despite being at the scene of the crime, he’d assure them there was no way he would have killed Tina. What’s more, there was no way he could have left the mess that was there. It was inhuman and baffled everyone who had seen the aftermath.

While on her way to school, Nancy was grabbed and pulled behind some bushes by Rod. She noticed he looked frightened and panicked. It was a color on him she’d never seen before. Rod was always confident, to a fault. To see him lacking that charming arrogance set Nancy back. As she suspected, Rod professed his innocence. Nancy was ready to believe him, until he told her how it happened.

It was bizarre. Unreal. A nightmare. Nancy began to suspect Rod may have lost his mind. To believe something so horrible and impossible could only be accomplished by the insane. Yet she saw no madness in his eyes. Only fear and desperation. He needed her to believe him, so she did. Nancy was a wallflower, a shrinking violent. For almost anything she’d accommodate – except when Glen asked to do more than some heavy petting.

Before she could be convinced to hide him and sneak him across the state lines, they were found. To her fury, Nancy’s father, the chief of police, had used her as bait. He and his men had been following her without her knowledge, hoping Rod would contact her. Sure enough, they were right. It didn’t diminish Nancy’s anger toward her father. To be used like that, and then to have her pleas of Rod’s innocence ignored.

She attempted to confide in Glen, her boyfriend. To get them both on the same page so they could face the horror together. If Rod wasn’t the killer, then the killer was still loose. Worse yet, it seemed the killer had supernatural powers. Glen refused to believe it, but he was supportive, to a reasonable degree. He’d listen to her theories and he wouldn’t shoot them down, but he wouldn’t feed into them either. It frustrated Nancy. She was losing sleep over it. So much so that she found herself dozing off in the middle of class.

As she slept, she dreamed. As she dreamed, she searched. She seemingly awoke in the classroom she fell asleep in, stirred by the pained calling of her name. There, in the doorway, was Tina. Encased in a foggy body bag. In a blink, Tina was on the floor. Her feet raised, pulled up by an invisible hand. Nancy watched as Tina was dragged out of sight.

But she wouldn’t abandon her.

In the hallway she followed the trail Tina left. It was thick, milky, and sticky. It was cum. She was leaving a trail of it in her wake. Nancy rushed after her, disregarding the protests of the hall monitor. A hall monitor who spoke in a voice that was clearly not her own; she waved at Nancy with a terrifying bladed glove.

Nancy found herself in a part of the school she’d never seen before. It was possible she was no longer in the school at all. Everything was cast in red and orange lights from the various furnaces. It was a maze of steam and rusty pipes. As she wandered, a sound followed her. A screeching, painful sound. She found its source as she wandered down the wrong corridor and met with a dead end.

The woman approached the 18-year old. Dragging her steel blades against the rusted metal and dragging her tongue across her teeth. She hungered for Nancy, and Nancy was sure that whatever she craved from her, it wasn’t good. Her approach became far too close for comfort. Rather than try to pinch herself awake, Nancy yanked up her sleeve and slammed her arm down on a white-hot pipe. The pain was enough to jerk her out of her dream, screaming into the classroom.

\--X--

There wasn’t much for Rod to do in a jail cell. All he could do was stew and wait. Eventually, even that grew tiring. By the time Nancy had figured out who or what killed Tina, and how, it would be too late.

Rod was asleep.

Though he looked peaceful resting in his cell, in his dream he was anything but. He was running. Desperately trying to evade his pursuers. Spears whizzed past his head, coming uncomfortably close to piercing him. The dense jungle thicket only made his escape that much harder. He had no familiarity with navigating the environment, but his pursuers obviously did. They would eventually catch up with him. Rather than end his life there and then, they instead bound his wrists and ankles and slipped a long stick between his arms and legs. He was carried like that, swinging from side to side as his tall, intimidating, female captors carried him.

There’s not much for one to do when captive other than to look around. Rod let his head hang back, taking in the sight of one of the women. Statuesque and fit. Muscular even. Strength exuding outward along with her beauty. He peered down his body to the other. Equally tall and equally beautiful. They were clad in nothing else other than fur bikinis, leaving little to the imagination. If his blood wasn’t struggling to rush to his extremities, it might have rushed elsewhere.

Unceremoniously he was dropped onto the harsh stone ground. A swift and sharp blade cut through his bounds on either set of limbs. Rod rubbed his wrists, working the stinging pain away.

“Undress him,” commanded a powerful, feminine, voice. Before he could look up to see who would order such an act, his captors followed through.

“Hey!” Rod exclaimed as he was yanked up to his feet so his jacket may be ripped off and his shirt yanked up over his head. “What the hell?” His hands slapped away at the brunette’s grasp. His defiance prompted the redhead behind him to lock his arms behind his back, leaving her sister to work off his shoes, pants, and underwear.

Rod let a sneering glare follow the brunette as she moved away, standing beside her sister who kept him in the arm lock. The soft sound of bare feet climbing down stone steps drew his attention. Approaching was the stunning woman who had ordered both his capture and his stripping. Luscious blonde locks bounced along with her heaving breasts. She was dressed only in a Raquel Welch fur bikini, filling it out just as well if not better. The sight of her caused him some embarrassment as his cock twitched.

“You are strong,” the woman observed, running her fingertips from his pecs and over the delightful ridges of his abs, “and your manhood is substantial.” The second observation was partnered with an examining cupping of his manhood, testing its heft. Her blue eyes snapped back up toward him, catching his arrogance face. Her hand snapped to his chin, squeezing his cheeks together as she sneered. “But you are still a man and are thus inferior to us in every way. Be thankful you hold some value, what little of it there is.”

“Fuck you, lady!” Rod spat, demonstrating his trademark recklessness.

The Amazonian queen of course would not let such insolence stand. In response, she jabbed Rod in the face quickly and brutally. In an instant his nose was broken, blood trickling over his lips. Before he could groan out another insolent insult, the blonde shoved her mouth against his. His pained screams, brought on by her face pressing against his broken nose, were muffled by her plump lips. Adding another bit of pain to the mix, she pulled back while biting onto his bottom lip. She didn’t puncture or tear before she released, but it was clear to all she could have. Rod watched the blonde lick his blood off her own teeth and lips with an amused smirk.

“You have spirit. Good,” she noted. “You’ll need that fire.” Her eyes flung off from Rod. “Prepare him.” In an instant her subordinates knew what to do; as if they’d done it many times before. The woman holding his arms at bay remained where she stood. The other, however, moved to her knees without hesitation. With equal amounts of non-reluctance, she started kissing and stroking his flaccid member. She did it not with a loving embrace, but with almost clinical indifference. Nevertheless, she put the necessary passion into her strokes and licks, all in the interest of serving her queen – not him.

Meanwhile, the queen took efforts to prepare _herself_. The blonde approached, confident in her strides. As the redhead kept Rod at bay, she happily accepted the attentive kiss of the blonde queen. Their lips were hungry and loving, firmly planting sucking kisses directly next to Rod’s head. It was, if nothing else, a great boon to the brunette’s efforts to get him hard. Amidst the wet smacking of lips against lips and lips against cock, Rod decided that his current situation wasn’t so bad after all. Even with the blood running down his chin.

He would be wrong.

As soon as he was hard and the queen was wet, she made one thing perfectly clear to him. He was there for their pleasure, first and foremost. Rod had assumed that she meant that the women would come first. He wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t entirely right, either. He would learn the full extent of their priorities firsthand.

Rod’s world became a hurricane of tits, ass, lips, sweat, and cum for the next…well it was hard to say how long. Perception of time in dreams is difficult to nail down. He could have been at it for 5 minutes, 5 years, or 5 lifetimes and he’d not know the difference. In any scenario, he was exhausted. From the first time he came, which was embarrassingly early, he learned a bizarre truth. He couldn’t go soft. No matter how often he came, no matter how sensitive his flesh, or how exhausted his body, he was always rigid as steal.

And yet his seven-foot blonde lover never seemed to be satiated.

She was cumming. He hoped. Otherwise all his efforts would have felt fruitless for how much effort he put in. Cumming or not, she never slowed down. His only clues to her climaxes were her body stiffening and tightening and her insistence on immediately changing positions. Every orgasm was marked with a new bruise or cut on his body, thanks to her thighs, teeth, nails, and enthusiasm.

He knew he should have been happy. She was by far the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He never thought he’d go for a woman with her Amazonian height and muscle definition. However, with her abundant curves, super model face, and yes even her muscles and height all worked so well together. He just wished she wasn’t using him so roughly. No action was taken with subtlety or grace. Every position change, every moan, every grip and gasp extracted a little pain from him.

His back became scratched up from her nails and the stone floor. His hips were bruised and exhausted from her gripping thighs and his constant motions, respectively. He felt dehydrated and worked over like never before, but the only fluid she’d give him was her own spit; or her vaginal discharge when she’d sit on his face. Which was often. Through it all, there was rarely a moment where he didn’t think he was going to die in one way or another.

She smothered his face against her breasts to near suffocation. She squeezed his body to the brink of bones breaking. She flipped and tossed him around from one position to the next, each time impacting his body against the ground and threatening to shatter his skull. Blood, sweat, tears, and of course cum stained the stone tiles all around them as they moved. Any time he tried to complain, she’d silence him by smothering his face with her breasts or sitting on his face outright, until he learned his lesson, or she got off. Yet his pride and arrogance never allowed him to openly admit defeat.

Until he could take no more.

“Please…” he said with a raspy voice moments after taking in a huge inhale of breath, the blondes fit ass rising up off of his wet, red, face. “Please…no more…too much…” His sentences were just short thoughts, hardly strung together and barely formed. He even went so far as to tap his hand against the floor, as if he were in a wrestling match, to signal his surrender.

“Hm?” she reacted with such casual and minimal interest. “What’s that?” There was, however, no minimal amount of smugness on her face as she looked down at him.

“Can’t…No more…Hurts…Must stop…” Rod couldn’t even summon up the energy to be enraged by her smugness. He’d never personally considered himself a sexist, but any time a woman displayed any kind of confidence in her abilities over his, he felt compelled to try and prove her wrong. Not only could he not think of how he might be better than the blonde, but he also couldn’t manage to form the thoughts necessary to be so arrogant and ignorant.

“Oh, poor baby,” the queen surprisingly said, clicking her tongue in concern. “Was I too much woman for you? In that case, we’ll stop…” Relief washed over Rod, but only briefly. “…after one more position.” Rod’s body was like jelly in her grip. He could offer no resistance to her maneuvering of his body. Already on his back, it was an easy effort to lift his legs, pushing them apart and back somewhat, and resting on his cock. It was an aptly named Amazon position. One that gave the woman full control of the pace and strength of the fucking. The way she was positioning him, however, caused him great discomfort.

Rod wasn’t a flexible man, metaphorically or physically. If his body wasn’t already sore and aching, he might have felt the forced stretching more. He was just trying to maintain some hope that once she was done, it’d be over, and he could rest. Never did Rod consider he might be dreaming. He was not one of those people who could recognize he was in a dream. Even if he could, the pain he was feeling could never have been felt in a _normal_ dream, so that alone would have convinced him he wasn’t – wild scenario or not. As her hips slid down, inserting his sore and forever-hard cock into her flooded, tight, tunnel, he felt a new pain in his back as she rested her weight on his body in its new position.

As usual, she was not gentle. With skilled precision, she managed to raise herself as high as she could, while keeping in snug inside, and then drop back down with cruel delight. Rod couldn’t even derive pleasure from anything anymore. He had no cum left (though remained torturously hard). His body ached and throbbed all over. Even the sight of her perfect, full, breasts bouncing, droplets of sweat flying off with every vigorous movement she made, couldn’t signal any delight in his brain. He didn’t see a woman basking in sexual pleasure. All he saw was his tormentor.

“Please…not so…rough,” Rod struggled to force out between her uncaring impalements. The scoffing noise she made in response gave him no hope that she’d listen.

“Whatever,” she laughed between grunts. “You love it.” He most certainly didn’t, but that clearly was not a deterrent for her. Whether through knowing cruelty or dismissive selfishness, she’d ignored his pleading and continued on; she actually went a little bit harder.

And then she became truly _rough_.

Just as Rod was hoping to let his exhaustion overtake his pain and pass out, the blonde made that impossible. Pain like never before exploded through his body as she pressed down his leg, bending it further back than what was comfortable. Rod had shut his eyes in order to avoid watching her happy, mocking, face, but the pain forced them open and took in the new visage of his tormentor.

Still a blonde, still busty, but not so Amazonian anymore. Even more strangely was her change, or rather gain, of attire. A black and pink bra showing through her torn red and green sweater. A dirty brown hat sitting atop her head, refusing to fall off even amidst her vigorous movements. He would have been more alarmed about the bladed glove that was gripping his ankle if she wasn’t currently shoving his leg down several more painful inches.

“Oh, is that too rough, Rodrick dear?” she cooed, though never lost her sinister smile. “You’ll have to forgive me. It’s just when I get on my hot_rod_, I like to go hard and fast!” She moved his leg another few inches, eventually hitting the point where it broke at the hip.

“I just love a man who’s willing to bend over backwards for me!” Rod’s pained screaming in his dream were the same as his in reality, though they failed to stir him from the nightmare.

Nancy and Glen were of course refused entrance into the cells to visit Rod. However, when his pained howls echoed through the station, the cop on duty had no choice but to ignore the two teens and go investigate. Of course, Nancy and Glen followed along.

When they arrived at the scene, Rod’s right leg was bent all the way back, his ankle near his ear. So shaken by the bizarre sight, the key-holding cop was unable to open the door in time to do anything to help Rod. Not that there was much he could have done, anyway. The three watched as Rod’s other leg was broken and forced back. Finally, though it was harder to make out than his legs bending unnaturally, Rod’s pelvis was completely shattered. The collection of pain became too much and Rod gave his final breath.

[TO BE CONTINUED…]


End file.
